by Unknown
"Yes. I believe it's Bothwell's schooner. He has slipped out unnoticed. The fellow must mean mischief."
"Oh, I hope not," said Evie, and she gave a little shiver.
A sound came faintly over the water to us from the shore.
"Did you hear that?" Evelyn turned to me, her face white in the shining moonbeam.
A second pistol shot followed the first.
"Trouble at the cache!"
I turned toward the pavilion and met Blythe. Already he was flinging a crisp order to the watch.
"Lower a boat, Neidlinger. Smith will help you. That you, Higgins? Rouse all hands from sleep. We've work afoot."
Again came a faint echo across the still waters, followed by two sharper explosions. Some one had brought a rifle into action.
Blythe turned to me. "It's my place to stand by the ship, Jack. This may be a ruse to draw us off. I can spare you one man to go ashore and see what the trouble is. Take your pick."
I chose Smith.
"Keep a sharp lookout, Jack. He's wily as the devil, Bothwell is. Better not land at the usual place. He may have an ambush planted."
"All right, Sam."
The Englishman turned to give Stubbs orders for arming the crew.
In the darkness a groping little hand found mine.
"Must you go, Jack? I--wish you would stay here."
My arm slid around the shoulders of my girl.
"It's up to me to go, honey."
We were alone under the awning. Her soft arms went round my neck and her fingers laced themselves.
"You'll be careful, won't you? It's all so horrible. I thought it was all over, and now---- Oh, boy, I'm afraid!"
"Don't worry. Blythe will hold the ship."
"Of course. It isn't that. It's you. I don't want you to go. Let Mr. Stubbs."
I shook my head.
"No, dear. That won't do. It's my place to go. But you needn't worry. The gods take care of lovers. I'll come back all right."
Her interlaced fingers tightened behind my neck.
"Don't be reckless, then. You're so foolhardy. I couldn't bear it if--if anything happened to you."
"Nothing will happen except that I shall come back to brag of our victory," I smiled.
"If I could be sure!" she cried softly.
The sinister sound of shots had drifted to us as we talked. The boat was by this time lowered and I knew I must be gone. Gently I unclasped the knotted fingers.
"Must you go already?" She made no other protest, but slipped a plain band ring from her finger to my hand. "I want you to have something of mine with you, so that----"
Her voice broke, but I knew she meant so that the gods of war might know she claimed ownership and send me back safe. For another instant she lay on my heart, then offered me her lips and surrendered me to my duty.
"Ready, Jack!" called Blythe cheerfully.
I ran across the deck and joined the man in the skiff. We pushed off and bent to the stroke. As our oars gripped the water the sound of another far, faint explosion drifted to us.
We landed a couple of hundred yards to the right of the spit and dragged our little boat into some bushes close to the shore.
I gave Smith instructions to stay where he was unless he heard the hooting of an owl. If the call came once he was to advance very quietly; if twice, as fast as he could cover the ground.
The mosquitoes were a veritable plague. As I moved forward they swarmed around me in a cloud. Unfortunately I had not taken the time to bring the face netting with which we all equipped ourselves when going ashore.
Before I had covered fifty yards I heard voices raised as in anger. Presently I made out the sharp, imperious tones of Bothwell and the dogged persistent ones of Henry Fleming.
"I'll do as I please. Understand that, my man!" The words were snapped out with a steel edge to them.
"No, by thunder, you won't! I don't care about the cattleman, but Gallagher and Alderson were my shipmates. I'm no murderous pirate."
"You'll hang for one, you fool, if you're not careful. Didn't Gallagher desert to the enemy? Wasn't Alderson against us from start to finish? Didn't one of them give me this hole in my arm just now? They'll either join us or go to the sharks," Bothwell announced curtly.
From where I stood, perhaps forty yards north of the cache, I could make out that my friends were prisoners. No doubt the pirate had taken them at advantage and forced a surrender. Of Barbados I could see no sign. Later I learned that he had taken to his heels at the first shot.
Twice I gave the hoot of an owl. Falling clearly on the still night, the effect of my signal was startling.
"What was that, boss?" asked a Panamanian faintly.
"An owl, you fool," retorted Bothwell impatiently. "Come, I give you one more chance, Gallagher. Will you join us and share the booty? Or shall I blow out your brains?"
Gallagher, from where he lay on the ground, spoke out firmly:
"I'll sail no more with murderous mutineers."
"Bully for you, partner!" boomed the undaunted voice of the cattleman.
"And you, Alderson?"
"I stand with my friends, Captain Bothwell."
"The more fool you, for you'll be a long time dead. Stand back, Fleming."
As I ran forward I let out a shout.
Simultaneously a revolver cracked.
Bothwell cursed furiously, for Henry Fleming had struck up the arm of the murderer.
The Russian turned furiously on the engineer and fired point-blank at him.
The bullet must have struck him somewhere, for the man gave a cry.
Bothwell whirled upon me and fired twice as I raced across the moonlit sand.
A flash of lightning seared my shoulder but did not stop me.
"Ha! The meddler again! Stung you that time, my friend," he shouted, and fired at me a third time.
They were the last words he was ever to utter. One moment his dark, venomous face craned toward me above the smoke of his revolver, the next it was slowly sinking to the ground in a contorted spasm of pain and rage.
For George Fleming had avenged the attempt upon his brother's life with a shot in the back.
Bothwell was dead almost before he reached the ground.
For a moment we all stood in a dead silence, adjusting our minds to the changed conditions.
Then one of the natives gave a squeal of terror and turned to run. Quick as a flash the rest of them--I counted nine and may have missed one or two--were scuttling off at his heels.
George Fleming stared at the body of his chief which lay so still on the ground with the shining moon pouring its cold light on the white face.
Then slowly his eyes came up to meet mine.
In another moment he and his brother were crashing through the lush underbrush to the beach. I judged from the rapidity with which Henry moved that he could not be much hurt. From the opposite direction Smith came running up.
I dropped to my knees beside Yeager and cut the thongs that tied his hands.
"Hurt?" I asked.
"No," he answered in deep disgust at himself. "I stumbled over a root and hit my head against this tree right after the game opened. Gallagher and Alderson had to play it out alone. But Bothwell must have had fourteen men with him. He got Gallagher in the leg and rushed Alderson. You dropped in right handy, Jack."
"And not a minute too soon. By Jove! we ran it pretty fine this trip. Badly hurt, Gallagher?"
"No, sir. Hit in the thigh."
I examined the wound as well as I could and found it not as bad as it might have been.
"A good clean flesh wound. You're in luck, Gallagher. The last two days have more than wiped out your week of mutiny. We're all deep in your debt."
"Thank you, sir," he said, flushing with pleasure.
Here I may put it down that this was the last word Gallagher heard about his lapse from duty. He and the other reconstructed mutineers were forgiven, their fault wiped completely off the slate.
I sent
Alderson down to the spit to signal the Argos for a boat. One presently arrived with Stubbs and Higgins at the oars. The little cockney was struck with awe at sight of the dead man.
"My heye, Mr. Sedgwick, 'e's got 'is at larst and none too soon. 'Ow did you do it?"
"I didn't do it. One of his friends did."
"Well, 'e 'ad it comin' to 'im, sir. But I'll sye for him that 'e was a man as well as a devil."
We helped Gallagher down to the boat and he and I were taken aboard.
The wound in my shoulder was but a scratch.
It was enough, however, to let me in for a share of the honors with Gallagher.
In truth I had done nothing but precipitate by my arrival the final tragedy; but love, they say, is blind.
It was impossible for me to persuade Evelyn that I had not been the hero of the occasion.
She could appreciate the courage of the three men who had chosen death rather than to join Bothwell in his nefarious plans, but she was caught by the melodramatic entry I had made upon the stage.
"You were one against fourteen, but that didn't stop you at all. Of course the others were brave, but----"
"Sheer nonsense, my dear. Any one can shout 'Villain, avaunt!' and prance across the sand, but there wasn't any pleasant excitement about looking Boris Bothwell in the eye and telling him to shoot and be hanged. That took sheer, cold, unadulterated nerve, and my hat's off to the three of them."
She leaned toward me out of the shadow, and the light in her eyes was wonderful.
With all the innocence of a Grecian nymph they held, too, the haunting, wistful pathos of eternal motherhood.
She yearned over me, almost as if I had been the son of her dreams.
"Boy, Jack, I'm glad it's over--so glad--so glad. I love you--and I've been afraid for you."
Desire of her, of the sweet brave spirit in its beautiful sheath of young flesh, surged up in my blood irresistibly.
I caught her to my heart and kissed the soft corn-silk hair, the deep melting eyes, the ripe red lips.
By Heaven, I had fought for her and had won her! She was the gift of love, won in stark battle from the best fighter I had ever met.
The mad Irish blood in me sang.
After all I am not the son of a filibuster for nothing.
CHAPTER XXVII
IN HARBOR
The morning found me as good as new except for a dull ache in my shoulder. I was up betimes for breakfast and ready for shore duty.
Yet I was glad to accept Blythe's orders to stay on board as long as we remained in Darien Harbor.
It was good to avoid the sun and the mosquitoes and the moist heat of the jungle, though I felt a little guilty at lying in a hammock on the shady side of the deck with Evelyn at my side, while my friends were perspiring in the burning sand pits with shovel and pick.
Fortunately, it was only a few hours before the last of the boxes buried by Bucks was uncovered. Jamaica Ginger's hatchet found it a good fifty yards from the others. Within an hour it had been dragged out of the dirt and brought aboard.
We sailed the same afternoon about twelve hours later than the schooner, which had quietly slipped past us on its way to the sea in the faint light of early dawn.
That Fleming had given up the attempt to win the treasure was plain. I doubt whether his men would have followed him even if he had wished it, for he had not the dominant temper of his chief.
We dropped anchor under the lee of a little island in the Boco Chico, but our engines were throbbing again by break of day. As we puffed across the North Bay we passed the schooner almost within a stone's throw.
Henry Fleming was on deck, and half a dozen of the blacks and browns who made up the crew swarmed to the side of the vessel to see us. Blythe had made quiet preparations in case any attempt at stopping us should be made, but apparently nothing was farther from the thoughts of the enemy.
In fact several of the dusky deck hands waved us a friendly greeting as we drove swiftly past. From that day to this I have never seen any member of that crew, though a letter received last week from Gallagher--who is doing well in the cattle business in the Argentine--mentioned that he had run across Henry Fleming at Buenos Ayres.
Out of the Gulf of San Miguel we pushed past Brava Point as fast as Stubbs could send the Argos. The lights of Panama called to us. They stood for law and civilization and the blessed dominance of the old stars and stripes.
We were in a hurry to get back to the broad piazzas of its hotels, where women at their ease did fancy work and played bridge while laughing children romped without fear.
Adventure is all very well, but I have discovered that one can get a surfeit of it.
Before the division of the treasure there arose a point of morality that, oddly enough, had not been considered before. It was born of my legal conscience and for a few minutes was disturbing.
Tom and I were in Blythe's cabin with him discussing an equitable division of the spoils. Into my mind popped the consideration that we were not the owners of it all but certain remote parties in Peru.
After having fought for it and won it the treasure was not ours. The thing hit me like a blow in the face. I spoke my thought aloud. Sam looked blankly at me.
Yeager laughed grimly. There was a good deal of the primitive man still in the Arizonian.
"If they want it let them come and take it. I reckon finding is keeping."
But I knew the matter could not be settled so easily as that. A moral question had arisen and it had to be faced. Evelyn was called into counsel.
She had an instant solution of the difficulty.
"We can't return it even if we want to. The town of Cerro Blanco and the neighboring mines were destroyed by an earthquake in 1819. Not a soul at the mines escaped and only a few peasants from the town. You will find the whole story in Vanbrough's 'Great Earthquakes.'"
"Then, after all, we are the rightful owners."
"I'm afraid we are," she smiled.
Blythe, already as wealthy as he cared to be, declined to accept any share of our spoils beyond the expenses of the cruise. Each of the sailors received a good-sized lump sum, as did also Philips and Morgan.
Rather against the wishes of our captain the three former mutineers shared with the rest of the crew. We did not of course forget the relatives of the men who had fallen in our defense.
The boatswain Caine left a widow and two children. We put her upon a pension until she married a grocer two years later.
We were never able to hear that she thought the loss of husband number one anything but a good riddance.
Jimmie's share went into a fund, which is being managed by Yeager and me as trustees. It is enough to keep him and his mother while the boy is being educated and to leave a small nest-egg in addition.
Yeager, of course, put his profits into cattle. Since Evelyn and I moved to Los Angeles we see a good deal of Tom and his wife. At least once during the winter we run across to his Arizona ranch for a week or two. His boy is just old enough to give his name proudly with a lisp as "Tham Blythe Yeager."
Ours is a girl. She has the golden hair and the sparkling spirit of her mother.
* * * * *
N. B.--The autocrat of the household has just read the last line as she leans over my shoulder. She will give me no peace till I add that the baby has the blue, Irish eyes of her dad.
THE END
* * *
Contents
A DAUGHTER OF THE DONS
A Story of New Mexico Today
BY WILLIAM MACLEOD RAINE
CHAPTER I
DON MANUEL INTRODUCES HIMSELF
For hours Manuel Pesquiera had been rolling up the roof of the continent in an observation-car of the "Short Line."
His train had wound in and out through a maze of bewildering scenery, and was at last dipping down into the basin of the famous gold camp.
The alert black eyes of the young New Mexican wandered discontentedly over the raw ugliness of the camp. Towns str
aggled here and there untidily at haphazard, mushroom growths of a day born of a lucky "strike." Into the valleys and up and down the hillsides ran a network of rails for trolley and steam cars. Everywhere were the open tunnel mouths or the frame shaft-houses perched above the gray Titan dump beards.
